In the misty morning of the White Dew District in the Holy City, a few carriages halted at the entrance to Old Seine's farm, surrounded by a cavalcade of riders.
Leading the way, Baron Ralph Devor gracefully dismounted and handed the reins to his servant. Accompanied by a lawyer, a district priest, and a local court judge, he crossed the threshold of the farm.
This was once a prosperous land, but a series of extreme weather at year's end left its barns empty, and the intersecting furrows filled with the stubble of dried crops.
Yet it was precisely this desolation that filled Ralph's heart with confidence, sure of taking possession of this land.
"It seems even Saint Sis stands with us," the lawyer raised an eyebrow slightly, unable to resist a smile.
Ralph was about to engage him in conversation when a nimble silhouette crossed the furrows, stepping onto the yellowed fields.
"Father! May I wander around here?"
